Winter's Final Breath
by Minipa
Summary: Written from a prompt I've seen long ago; this is a different rendition of the final battle of Winterfell against the Night King. One-Shot.


**Chapter 1 - Night of the Shattered Ice**

**Okay, I saw a theory/fan ending a while back and I decided to expand it with a one shot. I'm not really sure who actually posted it because it was originally a 4chan post. If you guys know what I'm talking about, credit to that random guy. **

**Anyways, I'm not sure if people already wrote a story/one-shot on this, but this will be my take. **

**First story written in GOT, will not be planning anything more than the first chapter. **

**Note: Most of the story will be assumed as in canon, although some character positions will be changed from canon to make the movement more coherent (no teleporting characters here).**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**MADE SURE TO READ IN 1/2 PARAGRAPH FORMAT FOR BEST EXPERIENCE.**

* * *

The retreat had been sounded.

Jaime's incredulous look was only matched in intensity by the sheer beating of his heart. Waves and waves of undead came at them unendingly. All their efforts: the unsullied, Dothraki… _gods the fucking Dothraki, _was basically for naught. Try as he might, but the influx of chaos and thousands of men into the keep made even something as simple as _running away_ difficult.

It was funny wasn't it? From the very beginnings of his life… all he could do was _run. _Perhaps he should have stayed with Cercei in King's landing? The Lannister looked around, his frantic footsteps silenced by the assault of the dead. It was truly _chaos_. Even if he _did _stay, would he be able to live with himself, knowing that _this _was the fate of all… _him, Cercei, and every bloody person from the North to Dorne. _

_And I can't even run properly…_

True to that, he was pushed around by the crowd. Screams of fear and despair filled the very air, adding to the cacophony that would very well sound their demise - _or eternal thralldom._

Dissociation was a fickle thing. Jaime thought he would be filled with fear, for his life, for Cercei, for all the people he promised to fight for. Yet, just a strange rush in between terror and thrill. From the edge of his vision, his eyes widened as his gaze landed on a familiar knight, still fighting with an unbending will.

_Brienne._

* * *

The sounds of muffled terror could be heard all the way from the Godswood. _Were their defences already defeated? _

At the very beginning of battle, Theon knew what he had to do. If the first line fell, then the dead would pour straight in, however delayed, towards them. Even _then_, there was _no _way he would fall here. After everything… _Robb, Sansa, Ramsay… _and his sister, Yara.

The things he had done could not be forgiven, but here, at the very least, he could find redemption. His hands, still mutilated from his time as Reek, gripped as hard as they could into the spear tipped with dragon glass. The dead was coming. Yet, his heart was beating.

Dread began to fill him as he felt his body weaken, the fragile courage buckling against the sheer intensity of death that could be felt in the air.

_Don't lose it Theon! Remember why you came!_

The side of him that refused to die, even from his hardships, told him. Once again, the hold on his spear tightened; his eyes, filled with determination, stared at the entrance shrouded by fog.

They came.

* * *

_Is this truly how it ends?_

For who knows how fucking long, he had been swinging his sword at the uncountable hordes of _dead _people. He might as well had his _bloody cock_ out for all the good _that's _doing.

Seven hells, Look at him, in the midst of the long _fucking _night, still trying to be clever. If only father could see him now…

_I doubt even HE would want to see what I'm seeing._

Jaime managed a small resigned smile grace his features as he turned for the briefest of seconds, seeing the tall women he had made his companion just the night earlier.

_Brienne…_

That's right. He didn't come here to _die. _He left Cercei, came all this way, so he could do the _right _thing.

_And that means coming out of this alive!_

No matter what happened, he was going to_ damned_ make sure Brienne made it out _with _him.

* * *

For millennia, the Night King, bringer of death, and the lord of the walkers bided his time. Hundreds, thousands, _hundreds _of thousands; numbers that exceeded any army in history were at his command.

The way he walked, the way he stood, the way he _stared. _Every inch of him exuded confidence, for how could he lose? An unkillable army, one outnumbering his enemy tens of times, a _dragon, _and the ability to add to his numbers further_. _

The slightest of smiles and a confident stride.

It was simply a matter of time.

* * *

***Crack!***

Yet another wight was cut down by her sword, _Oathkeeper. _

_The same sword given to her by Jaime. _

The female knight glanced for the briefest of moments at man fighting beside her. The familiar sight of the Lannister calmed her heart, for even in this darkest of days, she could still see the smallest kindle of hope.

_Widow's wail. _

Yes, the sister sword of Oathkeeper, forged from Ice, the ancestral blade of the starks. The same sword that knighted her the day before.

She turned back towards the chaos, narrowly dodging the swing of a skeletal hand. The ditch was already lit, and the retreating men were far and between. _Were they safe? _No. They were not.

For they were on the _wrong _side.

There was no escape and no chance of rest. The continuous barrage of undead limbs came at her over and over again. Each and every attack saw the next wave double in intensity. Glances that she would exchange with Jaime were now impossible. Despite all her focus being on staying alive… she _knew. _Her fellow knight was close, and that kept her fighting spirit alive.

***Clang!* **

The sound of metal striking metal entered her ears as she saw a sword fall from the corner of her eye.

_No… _

Jaime had lost his sword.

Despite his hasty retreat, the Lannister was quickly backed into a corner, with the dead seconds within contact.

_NO! _

The knight would be lying if she said she didn't love Jaime. All her life, she wanted to be knighted, Jaime gave her that. Now? She was going to prove that that title was _well-_deserved.

With a newfound ferocity, the woman fought through the wights blocking her way to Jaime. She was in front of him in an instant, with unfeeling bodies approaching from every direction.

"You won't get past me!" Her defiant scream was only heard by one. And that was all she needed.

A swing, felling two.

Desperation filled her next attacks, the adrenaline quickly wearing out.

"Gah!" A scream of pain came from her as a wight pierced her stomach with a sword. She looked back at Jaime, armed with naught but a glorified stick, stare at her with concern.

_I am a knight of the seven kingdoms! _

Planting her shaking feet into the ground, she swung with all her might. Even with her monumental effort, the wave was simply too many. Sword after sword, axe after axe, made their way into her body. Blood dripped from every wound, yet she still refused to fall on her back.

Her eyes met Jaime's, regret filling her heart.

"I'm… so-" Dropping her sword in front of her fellow knight, Brienne dropped to her knees before falling onto her side.

* * *

_Damn them! _

Jaime could do nothing as Brienne was assaulted from every angle. He could barely hold back the undead that made it past her. _If only he had his sword! _

"I'm… so-" His green eyes, filled with barely contained rage, looked into Brienne's blue for the very last time.

_DAMN THEM TO HELL!_

Time seemed to slow as the knight beat back the wights blocking his way to Brienne. She was already on the ground now, fallen. Despite his anger, he knew that his time came as well.

_Pick up the sword… _

A voice in the very back of his mind spoke to him. On the ground, laid _Oathkeeper. _The same sword he gave to Brienne, one that she named herself. The approaching dead were truly moving in slow motion. He could see each movement, each step, and each swing with perfect clarity.

_Pick up the sword… _

The same voice told him again. Was it his thoughts perhaps? Through a gap between the Night King's army, his eyes focused on a seemingly ethereal flame that stood out from the rest.

_Jaime Lannister. _

There it was again. Now saying his name. His eyes glanced down to Brienne's sword. Unknowingly, his only hand already reached for it. Despite having the same grip, same weight, and same shape. It was a _completely _different sword.

Warmth. That was all he could describe when his grip fully tightened on Oathkeeper. His body, numb from the cold, felt all its strength returning in spades. Forever more, the brilliant sheen reflected his own visage back to him, one accompanied by the ethereal flame.

_Stand up… _

The voice was getting louder; his strength returning, and time hastening.

_Fight. _

Through the approaching weapons, he smiled. Through the approaching dead, he swung. With one single swing of his sword, dozens of undead perished in the otherworldly flames that danced all around him.

Perhaps he would have been surprised if didn't already see his death. Now? He knew what he must do.

* * *

"You're a good man… thank you."

Theon, a stark in all but name, charged towards the Night King. He knew it was death, but he attacked anyway. For his life, even if it's worth only seconds, was one that he would gladly give.

The Night King didn't even try. As if he was swatting the smallest of insects, the spear Theon wielded was wrenched out of his grip, and stabbed into his own stomach.

Seconds were all that were gained. Perhaps… seconds were all that were _needed._

The king of winter continued towards Brandon Stark, the three-eyed Raven, in his confident stride. Despite being over in moments, it seemed as if it were an eternity.

The Night King drew his sword, winter personified, and stared the boy right into his eyes. Bran could do nothing himself to prevent the Night King's final attack. Yet despite that, he knew what was coming.

From the corner, a shuffle.

One of the Night King's Lieutenants walked forward with a girl in Tow. The Night King could have easily killed her right away. But he wanted _him _to watch. The man who could see everything, he will see… _death. _

The King walked towards the girl, still struggling to escape. Ice began to crawl up her body, for her mortal form couldn't withstand the magic within the walkers.

He gave one last look at Bran, who still held his unmoving expression. Smiling, he lifted his sword.

Yet, he didn't swing. Within the girl's eyes, there was a reflection of ethereal orange that should not exist. Turning, he saw a gap carved through his army, by a _single _man. One who wielded a sword enriched with flames. He _knew. _The Night King, untouched by dragonfire, _knew. _If those flames covered him, he _will _burn.

He gave one last glance to the crippled boy, seeing the slightest of smiles grace his features.

* * *

Coming face to face with the Night King would have frozen most if not all men in fear. But now? He could _feel _his own power. It was as if to him, the Night King was just like _any_ other man.

Jaime stared into the eyes of death. A cold, ethereal blue stared back. A hint of fear flashed within the bringer of death, causing a smile to creep up the knight's face.

_This… is where it ends! _

Charging, the Lannister tightened his grip, closing the gap with a seemingly inhuman speed. Within moments, the Lieutenants of winter all advanced towards him, with the Night King at the center.

It would have been impossible odds against any other man. But Jaime was _not_ any other man.

Jaime accelerated, delivering the first swing to one of the walkers. It tried to block, only to see his spear shatter on contact. It didn't stop there. Oathkeeper continued without slowing down, passing through the walker and cutting into another; both turning into ashes.

Neither side stopped. The Lieutenants began attacking in Tandem with the Night King, who delivered his own blows. While Jaime had the power, he was still a far cry from the man he were before. _How I wish I could use my right hand once more. _

"Gah!" Jaime grunted in pain as he felt the cold slash his leg. Two more lieutenants were downed in another exchange, but he was struck by the Night King. _Seven bloody hells! _

To the shock of all that were present, the ice that had began to spread on his leg stopped. He stared at his sword, then back to his leg, before turning to the Night King with a confident smile. _I won't go down like that!_

Downing another one of the walkers, Jaime charged towards the Night King, who began fighting far more cautiously.

The battle continue for what seemed like hours, but in reality, it was minutes.

All of the Night King's lieutenants were felled, and now? It was only two. The Night King didn't bother sending in his Wights, because he knew that they could not touch the man in front of him.

The two stared at each other, sizing each other up. Jaime was covered from head to toe with frozen cuts, while his opponent sported naught an injury. Yet despite that, he _attacked._

A downward diagonal swing. Blocked.

Countered by a swift stab, dodged.

An upward combo followed by multiple jabs. Caught by the arm.

"ARGH!" Despite the flames protecting him, he could not help but scream pain as the cold burned where he was grabbed. _This… is not my end! _

The flames grew brighter, forcing the Night King to release him.

Despite his newfound power, Jaime knew that the Night King outclassed him in every way. Thousands of years of experience, superior power, and a fighting mind unaffected by any distraction. If he wanted to win… he would have to fight dirty.

_Fuck honour. _

Remembering the words Brienne herself said to him, he could do nothing but smile.

_I need you to become the man you were always meant to be… _

His father's words echoed in his mind. Fighting a prolonged battle would ensure his defeat. Whatever happens, he had to act _now. _

Jaime resumed his attack, forcing the Night King to defend.

_Kingslayer…_

Each swing increased in intensity as the Night King was pushed further and further into his guard. The name so many had given him begin to echo in his mind.

_Kingslayer… _

One final swing, forcing his sword to the ground. The cold blade of the Night King instantly went for his head. There was no way he could bring his sword up in time. He smiled. Not that he was trying to.

***Clang!***

Jaime lifted his right hand, intercepting the sword. He could see the shock in the Night King's eyes as he stopped his swing.

"Do you know what they call me?"

_Kingslayer…_

_KINGSLAYER…_

_**KINGSLAYER…**_

Jaime, with all his strength, forced the Night King's sword away, sacrificing his right arm to the ice. With his left hand, he brought his sword up, stabbing straight through underside of his opponent's chin.

"The Kingslayer."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**End.**

…

**How was it? Leave your thoughts below!**

**Make sure you guys check out my other stories!**

**[The Nothing Dragon Slayer's Misadventures in Fairy Tail] **

**[Chef Ramsay]**

**[A God's Redemption]**

**[Rise of the Light Bringer]**

**[First Light]**

**[Evolution: A Hero's Becoming]**

**[Minipa's Trope Discussions and How to Not Suck Shit at Writing]**

**[Minipa's Trope Discussions and How to Not Suck Shit at Writing - BNHA]**

**Minipa, out!**


End file.
